


waist deep in this mess we've made

by sebayard



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Lotor POV, M/M, Pre-Relationship, lotor pines but doesn't realize it, very slight and minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebayard/pseuds/sebayard
Summary: "He doesn’t want to trust these people. He shouldn’t, not if he wants to protect himself, not if he wants to stay safe. He needs to maintain distance if he wants to remain intact and come out of this war unscathed.But there’s something about Keith."In which Lotor reflects on the fragility of man and the contradiction that is Keith Kogane.





	waist deep in this mess we've made

**Author's Note:**

> @Actuallydrarry on tumblr sent me a prompt:
>
>> Are you still in need of prompts? If you have time, may I request an incredibly fluffy keitor piece where they're just cuddling. Partly your stereotypical cutesy cuddling but also the kind of cuddling where you just... drape your entire bodyweight on top of the other person. Like that post about the cats!
> 
> I'm rather terrible at writing fluff, so idk if I'd describe this as super fluffy, but the cuddling I could definitely provide. I hope you enjoy! Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are all loved and cherished greatly.

Keith Kogane was not soft. He was all hard edges, sharp and defined like the knife he carried. He was unyielding and relentless, a small, burning flame that could turn into a raging inferno when provoked. Touch him or those he held close and he’d make you bleed and burn. His hands were calloused and his jaw line set. An immovable object.

 

No, Keith Kogane was not soft.

 

And yet…

 

Lotor forgets, sometimes, the... _fragility_ , of humans. How easily they break and bruise. How their skin turns purple and bleeds under rough hands that throw hard punches or their bones bend and snap when they fall too far.

 

Keith is not soft, but humans are, and though Galra blood runs through his veins, Keith is very, very human.

 

“You’re staring,” Keith murmurs, eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

 

“I’m sorry, I- are you sure you’re alright?” Lotor can’t tear his gaze away from the bruise near Keith’s left eye. The stark purple colors stand out from the rest of his face, and Lotor realizes then that bruises on humans look worse than bruises on Galra, more worrisome, more painful.

 

“M’fine,” Keith mumbles from his spot on the couch before shutting his eyes again. “You’re not supposed to let me sleep, though.”

 

Lotor clears his throat. “Right. Sorry, I’m just not used to…”

 

“To baby sitting concussed people?”

 

“I was going to say playing nurse, but yes, essentially. And you are allowed to sleep, just in forty dobash intervals and that’s just because Kolivan worries about you too much.”

 

Keith let’s out a small huff of frustration, but his expression is fond more than anything. “Yeah,” he says with a small smirk. “Yeah I know. But this couch is so uncomfortable I’d be surprised if I could sleep for five.”

 

This is true. The Blade of Marmora base is efficient and practical. Effective for creating a functional space in which to take down Zarkon but not much else. Nothing about it is catered towards comfort or luxury.

 

Perhaps that is why Lotor says what he does, or maybe it is something else, something like compassion, something like the feeling he gets when he looks into bright violet eyes...

 

“You could rest on my lap, if you’d like.”

 

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise. “Why?”

 

“It’s efficient.” Lotor tries to convince himself as much as Keith. “You’ll get more rest which will get you back into the field faster.”

 

Keith just keeps staring.

 

“Of course you don’t have to. It was just an offer.” Lotor backpedals as he picks up the book on his lap. “Do whatever you’d like. I’m fine either way.” He tears his eyes away from Keith and back to his book, although he’d long forgotten what the previous pages had said.

 

They resume sitting in silence, Lotor refusing to look back up but still all too aware of the distance between them. He feels like it’s mocking him, now that the invitation to close it has been spoken.

 

He doesn’t even know why he asked in the first place. It isn’t like him, to do things like that. Every action he takes, every word he says, has a purpose. Lotor is a strategist. It’s a trait he takes pride in. He had a plan when he worked under Zarkon, he had a plan when he joined the Blades, and he has a plan now, although, under Keith’s unwavering gaze, for the life of him he can’t remember what it is. But this moment, Lotor knows, isn’t it. It’s unplanned, spontaneous, _dangerous_. It’s-

 

_Oh._

 

The cushions beside him bend as Keith shifts and his head rests gently on Lotor’s lap. “Wake me up in forty.”

 

Well then.

 

“Alright.”

 

Keith settles into a more comfortable position and lets out a small sigh as his eyes shut.

 

Lotor pauses before leaning back into the sofa. No, this certainly was not planned…

 

But it is not unwelcome.

 

* * *

 

Lotor hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but given the exhaustion that has been seeping into his bones since the Narti incident and a warmth he hasn’t felt in years radiating from Keith’s body, it isn’t a surprise.

 

What is a surprise is the position he finds himself in.

 

He is lying on the couch, feet nearly hanging off the edge, and Keith’s body is splayed on top of him, head resting near his collarbone, eyes blinking up at him beneath his bangs.

 

The position is compromising and dangerous. Vulnerable; for the both of them. Funny, though, how he makes no move to change it.

 

“You didn’t wake me up,” Keith says.

 

“Clearly.”

 

Lotor expects him to move, after that. Expects him to get up, to see Kolivan, to leave Lotor wondering what this feeling in his chest means. But he doesn’t. He continues lying on top of him, body relaxed, eys half-lidded, disarmed completely.

 

The oddness of it all brings a question to Lotor’s mind, something he’s been meaning to ask. “Do you trust me?”

 

Keith’s gaze flits around the room, landing everywhere but Lotor’s face. “No.”

 

“You’re lying.” It’s not an accusation so much as a statement of fact. He may have only been around for a few months but Lotor has been with the Blades long enough to learn that their youngest member is terribly bad at lying.

 

Keith glances back up at him and sighs. “It’s not...it’s not that I don’t trust you…” Lotor can feel his whole body tense up.

 

“It’s that you don’t want to,” Lotor finishes, “even though you do.”

 

Lotor understands, because he’s the same way.

 

He doesn’t want to trust these people. He _shouldn’t_ , not if he wants to protect himself, not if he wants to stay safe. He needs to maintain distance if he wants to remain intact and come out of this war unscathed.

 

But there’s something about Keith.

 

There’s something about the way he launches himself at a problem, the way his intuition guides him, the way his eyebrows furrow when he thinks. There’s something about his sharp edges, his upturned smiles, his fiery eyes…

 

It’s something that disarms Lotor to his very core. And it scares him.

 

But he loves it.

 

Keith stares up at him. “How do you do... _that_?”

 

“What?”

 

“Know what I’m thinking all the time.”

 

“You do the same to me.”

 

“But- it...it’s different, somehow, with you. I don’t… I don’t know how, it just _is_.” His whole face is contorted in confusion, like he’s trying to solve a problem but it’s not adding up the way he expects.

 

“Is it a bad thing?’

 

“No... it’s amazing.”

 

That is not the response Lotor anticipated. It makes him feel… nice.

 

 _Amazing_.

 

Lotor looks at him, the man sprawled over top of him, and lightly brushes the hair out of his face, careful to avoid the bruise.

 

Keith Kogane is not soft. He is all hard edges, quick, strong. He is a furnace, burning bright and hot like a star. He is stubborn, he is intelligent, he is incredible.

 

Keith leans into the touch, closes his eyes.

 

_Soft._

 

“Let it be known,” Lotor whispers softly, “that the feeling is mutual.”

 

Keith lets out a soft hum and a small smile. “Kolivan came by earlier, said I could sleep all I want. You mind?”

 

“Not at all,” Lotor responds, but Keith’s eyes are already shut.

 

Lotor leans his head back and lets out a sigh, fatigue making a visit yet again. Sleep had always been a chore for him. A necessary evil. Rest was always fitful and cold. Lonely. But this?

 

He gently rubs circles into Keith’s back as he closes his eyes, his contradictory soft and hard edges blending into one, body warm against his own.

 

Lotor could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine when Kolivan walked in on them it went something like this:
> 
> Kolivan: Why are you cuddling with the _enemy_?
> 
> Keith: Shut up you're not my _real_ dad!
> 
> Request prompts or yell at me at my tumblr [@sebayard](http://sebayard.tumblr.com/)


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